Chapter 11
The silence of the house became unbearable.
In the first few days, Sara still believed Vincenzo would come back.
Every time she heard a car pass on the street, she ran to the window with her heart racing.
Every time someone rang the doorbell, she stopped whatever she was doing, her entire body tense with hope.
But it was never him.
Never.
The days turned into weeks.
The weeks turned into months.
And hope faded, like a flower torn from the ground slowly dying.
The entire house felt like a prison made of memories.
The couch where he used to sit and pull her onto his lap.
The kitchen where he drank his coffee slowly, just so he could look at her a little longer.
The living room where they spent whole afternoons talking about nothing and everything at the same time.
The bedroom.
Especially the bedroom.
It was impossible to look at that bed without feeling her chest tear from the inside.
Sometimes she sat on the edge of the mattress and stared at the empty pillow.
Trying to understand where everything had gone wrong.
Trying to figure out at what moment she had stopped being enough for him.
But no answers came.
Only silence.
And longing.
A cruel longing.
The kind that hurt even to breathe.
At work, she tried to appear normal. She smiled for photographers, posed, talked to the other models.
But the moment she was alone for a few minutes, everything crumbled.
Because Vincenzo was everywhere. In every song that played.
In every perfume she caught on the street.
In every couple holding hands. In every sunset. In every night.
Especially at night.
She cried every night until she fell asleep.
And woke up crying again.
Until her own body began to give out along with her heart.
The nausea came first. Then the dizziness. Extreme weakness. The fainting spells. Food wouldn’t stay in her stomach. Everything tasted like ash. The world lost its color. Lost its meaning. Some days she could barely get out of bed. Barely manage a shower. Barely look at herself in the mirror.
One morning, while trying to make a coffee she knew she wouldn’t be able to drink, her vision suddenly went dark. The glass slipped from her fingers. The floor rushed up to meet her hard.
When she opened her eyes again, she called emergency services, because she was alone and didn’t have the strength to get to the hospital.
She barely registered them opening the door to help her and place her on the stretcher.
When she regained her strength, she saw white lights.
The strong smell of medication. Machines beeping in the distance.
A doctor was examining some papers with a serious expression when she saw her waking up.
“How are you feeling?” the woman asked in a gentle voice.
“Weak… tired…” Sara murmured, her voice hoarse from crying so much.
The doctor smiled, but it was a small smile, almost sad.
“That’s normal at this stage. But now you need to improve your diet and start the vitamins urgently. You’re going to need a lot of strength.”
Sara frowned, confused.
“Normal? What do you mean?”
The doctor closed the folder slowly.
“The baby, despite everything, is growing healthy, but both of you need to be strong to handle the delivery.”
Her expression turned to shock.
“What…? Baby?”
The word came out like a broken whisper.
The doctor tilted her head gently.
“You didn’t know? You’re pregnant, dear… You’re eight weeks along… Congratulations.”
Sara went completely still.
Without breathing.
Without blinking.
Without being able to process it.
Pregnant.
The word echoed inside her like thunder.
Pregnant.
The tears came before she even realized it. Thick. Hot. Uncontrollable.
Her heart raced. Her hands began to tremble violently.
Because there was only one possibility.
That baby was his.
It was Vincenzo’s.
The man who had left without looking back.
The man who had abandoned her.
The man who still occupied every inch of her chest, even after everything.
The doctor gave her time to absorb the news. She realized it wasn’t a planned pregnancy and asked carefully:
“Would you like to talk about the available options?”
Sara lifted her eyes, tears still streaming down.
“Options?”
“Yes. The pregnancy is still in the early stages. Some women prefer to terminate…”
“No.”
The answer came out immediate. Firm. Almost aggressive.
The doctor looked surprised.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Sara brought a trembling hand to her own belly. There was no bump yet. There were no movements yet. But somehow she already felt that life there.
Small.
Fragile.
Innocent.
“I’m going to have this baby.”
The doctor simply nodded, respecting her decision.
And for the first time in a long while, Sara felt something different from pure sadness.
Fear.
But also a fierce purpose.
Because now she was no longer alone.
The following months were difficult.
Very difficult.
The longing didn’t disappear.
Neither did the pain.
There were days when she hated Vincenzo with all her strength — calling him a coward, a liar, a man who destroys lives and disappears.
There were days when she cried so hard she could barely breathe, asking why he had abandoned her exactly when she needed him most.
But there were also days when she missed him so much it hurt physically. Days when she hugged his pillow and imagined it was his chest. And on those days she felt guilty. Because she no longer knew if she should love him or hate him.
Maybe both at the same time.
While her heart fought that silent, exhausting war, her belly grew.
And with it grew her love for the child.
She attended every appointment, even when she barely had the strength to leave the house.
She took the vitamins even when the nausea was so strong she threw up right after.
She ate, even when the food wouldn’t go down.
She did the exams, even when she cried alone in the waiting room.
Everything for that baby.
Everything for that small life she was carrying alone.
And little by little, that child began to become her reason to keep going.
Her reason to get out of bed even when she wanted to disappear.
Her reason to keep breathing even when her chest hurt so much it felt like it might stop.
◆◆◆
Months later, Sara returned to the hospital for another ultrasound exam.
Her belly was already rounded, visible, beautiful. She lay on the table with a tight chest. The doctor prepared the machine. The dark screen lit up.
And then… small movements appeared.
A small life.
Her baby.
Sara watched everything in silence, hypnotized, tears already slowly streaming from the corners of her eyes.
The doctor smiled — a wide smile, the kind that announces good news.
“It looks like someone wants to meet Mommy today. Would you like to know the sex?”
Her heart raced so hard it hurt.
“Yes… please.”
The doctor looked back at the screen, moved the probe a little more, and smiled even wider.
“Congratulations, Mom.”
Sara’s eyes filled with tears immediately.
“It’s a girl.”
Her world stopped again.
A girl.
She was expecting a girl.
The tears began to fall without control. She brought both hands to her mouth, trying to hold back the sobs, but she couldn’t. The crying came out mixed with pain and something that felt like hope for the first time in a long while.
Because in that moment, for the first time since Vincenzo had left, something inside her began to bloom again.
It was a girl.
Her daughter.
His daughter.
Their daughter.
And while she watched the small image on the screen — the little face, the tiny hands, the little heart beating strong — Sara cried.
She cried for the longing that never went away.
For the pain that still hurt every day.
For the love that still existed, even after everything.
For the future that now had a name and a face.
And because Vincenzo wasn’t there.
He wasn’t seeing this.
He didn’t know.
He had no idea that, somewhere in the world, his little heiress was already growing, waiting for the day she would be born.